You don't know me
by oldmule
Summary: Harry, Ruth, music, fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**H/R mid to late S8, awash with sexual tension...what else!**

* * *

><p>She stood close. So close he could breathe her in. He didn't want her to move.<p>

He controlled his breathing, he quashed his desires, he restrained himself …again.

Always.

"Harry? What do want?"

Therein lay the question.

He didn't dare an answer.

He wanted to reach forward, just those few inches, reach across the void, eliminate the space, and feel her soft lips under his. He wanted to hold her, touch her, feel her. He wanted to lose himself in her.

"Harry?"

"What do I want, Ruth?"

The words had escaped him.

She nodded. Still so close. Eyes so large, so intense, so very Ruth.

"You," he said softly.

Her gaze did not falter.

Her breath did not stop.

Her heartbeat did not hesitate.

...Seemingly.

"To speak to Washington and find out what they know, Ruth."

A moment passed.

"Fine," she said and turned away.

His hand flexed, desperate to hold her back, before clenching into a fist and burying itself in his pocket.

"Ruth," he called.

She paused by the door.

And he knew in that moment that things had to change.

"Yes?" she waited, watching the stillness of his face and wondering what thoughts were running through his mind.

"You don't know me," he said.

Her face clouded.

"I'm sorry?"

"You think you know me well, but you don't know me."

She hesitated. Lost.

His nerve deserted him as the silence hung heavy in the air and he watched the uncomfortable expression settle upon her face. As she opened her mouth to speak, he simply cut her off.

"That'll be all, Ruth."

It was a dismissal.

She slid the door closed behind her.

He stood on one side wondering what the hell had come over him.

She stood on the other wondering what the hell he was trying to say.

* * *

><p>Ruth could not settle, even at home. Nothing felt quite right. Her tea tasted wet, her dinner hot but neither seemed to be very real, neither seemed to be right. She, who could untangle all problems, other than the personal, was troubled by the words which hung in her mind, distracting her.<p>

* * *

><p>"Idiot" said Harry out loud.<p>

Scarlett looked up.

"Not you," he muttered and abstractedly patted her head.

* * *

><p>The bus was particularly full this morning. Not that it was busier than usual, more that she was later than usual.<p>

Restless sleep and unsatisfied dreams.

The woman next to her sat reading a book. Ruth's lay unopened before her, unable even to concentrate on that. She gazed out of the window at the falling rain and the patterns it made running down the glass.

Harry's words were there again, running through her mind. Knowing him. Not knowing him.

"You think you know me well, but you don't know me."

She could hear him saying it with that strange, intense look upon his face.

She could hear him. She could hear the words.

….. She really could hear the words.

She turned to the woman, peering at the earphones fixed in her ears. She could hear the words.

The woman tried hard to ignore the fact that she was being unashamedly stared at. But then a hand touched her arm and stayed there. Even on a London bus it was a little too much to ignore. She unplugged one ear.

"I'm sorry, but that music, please may I listen to it for a moment?" said Ruth urgently.

The woman nodded slowly, it would seem rude to refuse.

"It's Van Morrison," she said handing over the headphones.

She watched the younger woman out of the corner of her eye. Watched the music wash over her. Watched the clarity spark in her eyes. Watched her face soften and then saw the heat rise in her cheeks.

Ruth was not looking at her fellow traveller. She was not looking at the rain. Nor the patterns on the window. The only thing she could see were the words of the song. The song she realised she knew. The words she knew.

_You give your hand to me and then you say hello and I can hardly speak my heart is beating so and anyone can tell you think you know me well, but you don't know me._

_No, you don't know the one who longs for you each night, and longs to kiss your lips and longs to hold you tight._

_You know I'm just a friend, that's all I've ever been. _

_You don't know me….._

_Afraid and shy I let my chance go by, the chance that you might have loved me too._

* * *

><p>"Where's Harry?'<p>

"Whitehall," Lucas answered.

Ruth took her seat.

"Keeping tabs on him, Ruth?" Ros smiled.

Sometimes she reminded Ruth of a shark.

This was one of those times.

"No, I just had some intel he wanted."

Ros got up. "That's not all he wants," she muttered, passing Lucas. Lucas smiled.

Ruth was aware she'd missed something but quite frankly she didn't want to know.

* * *

><p>Harry had been finding ways to stay off the grid.<p>

He was weighed down, weighed down by a pressure that never left him. A pressure to tell her the truth.

A need, a desire to stop pretending, to stop capping what he felt. He had had enough self restraint to last him a lifetime.

He wanted, where Ruth was concerned, to be unrestrained.

Very unrestrained.

And today, he concluded, today was the day.

Sod it. Why not!


	2. Chapter 2

"Ruth! My office."

Harry strode across the Grid.

Perhaps this wasn't the best place to do this but he was determined that if this was going to happen, it had to happen now.

And now happened to be here.

Lucas glanced at Ruth, eyebrows raised.

"Been taking home the stationary again?" grinned Ros.

Ruth ignored them. Her focus was solely upon Harry, his office and his mood.

"Close the door," he said gruffly as she walked in.

His mood seemed somewhat strained.

But she understood. He'd been trying to tell her something.

And she knew now what it was.

And so she took the step… today she finally dared to take the step….

"Van Morrison," she blurted out.

"What is?"

"You don't know me."

"I think I do, Ruth. Now, what's Van Morrison?"

"You think you know me well, but you don't know me."

"…..That's what I said yesterday."

"I know."

"Yes, well…" he took a deep breath, now was the moment "…about that, Ruth…"

"It's a song," she announced.

"A song?"

"Yes, the lyrics of a song."

He looked confused.

"You mean you didn't know it was a song…?" she said "...by Van Morrison?"

He simply looked at her.

"Well, Ray Charles did it first and then Michael Buble and Elvis, yes, I think Elvis did it too."

"Ruth!"

She stopped.

Harry's courage had been somewhat sidelined and his focus blunted. He stepped to the drinks cabinet.

Dutch courage would do.

"It's 11.30."

Harry poured.

"Is it not a little early?"

"Yes," he said and drank down the contents of the glass without pause.

Ruth suddenly felt very foolish, like some besotted girl she had been reading meaning where there was none. She had done anything but understand.

She wanted to go. She felt disappointed. Sad. Embarrassed.

Harry wanted to walk in again and this time kiss her before she started giving him lessons in pop history.

But that moment was gone.

"What did you want?" she asked quietly.

Here we go again, thought Harry.

"Did you call Washington?"

"Yes, I've left a report on your desk and I've checked the leads they suggested. There's not a lot there of significance."

"Right. Thank you."

He sat down.

"Was there something else?" she asked.

"There's always something else," he mumbled without looking at her.

"And you really didn't know it was a song?'

"No, Ruth, I didn't know it was a song," he sighed, "should I have?"

"No…well not really. Not at all, actually."

"Right. Good."

He turned his attention to the report that lay on his desk.

He heard the door slide open. His hand reached up to his face rubbing his forehead. Tired. Spent. Weary.

"I do know you, at least I think I do…."

He looked up at the gentle voice but the door slid shut before he had chance to say anything further.

Still and forlorn he sat. If only he had told her.

She didn't know him. Not really. She might know that he cared for her but truth be told she could never truly know the magnitude of his feelings, his desire for her, not without him showing her.

And he so wanted to show her.

"Bloody Van Morrison," he muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Short one for now.**

* * *

><p>There was a knock on the door.<p>

Harry pulled himself away from the window and stepped over Scarlett, who had not left him alone since his return home.

"Go lie down, I'm fine."

She followed him to the door, clearly not convinced.

"Sir."

A hand proffered a plastic bag.

"Thank you, Jeffrey, I appreciate it."

Harry took the bag from his driver.

"It's not quite the one you wanted, but I think it should be okay. Goodnight, Sir."

Harry closed the door and turning, nearly fell over Scarlett again.

"Go to your bed," he said firmly and waited until she somewhat unwillingly settled down.

Then his attention returned to the contents of the bag.

A CD.

Michael Buble.

Flicking through the tracks, he finally reached the one he wanted.

Play.

Harry stood by the window and listened to the song for the first time.

…_you think you know me well, but you don't know me._

_No, you don't know the one who dreams of you at night, and longs to kiss your lips and longs to hold you tight._

_Oh, I'm just a friend, that's all I've ever been, cos you don't know me….._

Scarlett's ears pricked. She trotted across the living room knowing something had changed.

"She thought I was trying to tell her something."

…_Afraid and shy I let my chance go by, a chance that you might love me too. _

Scarlett barked suddenly and Harry looked at her.

"Bloody hell, Scarlett!"


	4. Chapter 4

**We are taking a delve into the great American songbook. If you know it, fab. If you don't then I hope it all still works. **

**Not the best medium to add music but please go with it, or even have a listen!**

* * *

><p>It was raining again.<p>

The buses were on strike, the cabs all taken, the roads gridlocked and the tube…well, the tube was crawling with humanity, all known humanity.

And in its midst, wet and dishevelled was Ruth.

Why, she wondered, did those members of humanity over six foot have to show such blatant disregard for those underlings, such as her, who had to fight through elbows and armpits?

She squeezed through a gap, her bag failed to follow, she tugged at it and struggled towards the exit, relieved at last to feel a faint draft of fresh air from above.

* * *

><p>"Tough journey, hey Ruth?"<p>

Why did Ros have to look so bloody pristine all the time?

"I've had better," was the rather curt answer as Ruth divested her soggy coat and rooted through her handbag in search of comb, brush, lipstick, anything which might help the current state of her appearance.

She failed to find any of the above. The only thing she came up with was an ipod. An ipod shuffle.

A blue one.

Which was fine, apart from the fact that she didn't own an ipod shuffle.

She held it in her hand, looking curiously at the intruder.

She finally moved when she had dripped once too often upon it.

"You alright Ruth?" asked Tariq.

"Fine," she said, "fine."

And she sat down, lipstick, brush et al forgotten.

She looked through the glass of his office window. Empty.

She moved the files on her desk. And then she moved them some more.

Finally when the Grid had decided to forget her, her attention drifted back to the ipod.

She opened a drawer and dug out the headphones that lay within, used so often for transcribing and analysing various secret recordings.

Still wet, still cold, she wiped her hand across her face and pressed the 'on' button.

One track. One track was all it held.

She didn't understand but she pressed play.

_I've got you under my skin. _

_I've got you deep in the heart of me, you're so deep in my heart that you're really a part of me. _

_And I've got you under my skin._

She smiled. She didn't know why she was smiling. She didn't know it was from him. But yet it had to be. And she found herself smiling.

_I tried so, not to give in ,you know I've said to my self this affair, it never will go so well._

_But why should I try to resist when baby I know damned well, that I've got you under my skin._

_I'd sacrifice anything come what might for the sake of having you near, in spite of a warning voice that comes in the night and repeats, how it yells in these ears._

Ros looked at Lucas and then nodded to Ruth, "GCHQ recordings seem to have improved."

Lucas looked at the smiling Ruth and thought her less amused and more rather radiant, despite her lank, wet hair, there was a warmth, an energy emanating from her.

_Don't you know you fool, no chance to win why not choose your mentality, wake up, step up to reality. _

_But each time I do, just the thought of you makes me stop just before I begin… because I got you …you're under my skin _

_and I love you… under my skin._

She pressed repeat.

It might be Michael Buble's voice but in reality they were Harry's words, and Harry's words she knew, were purley meant for her.

And 'he loved her…under his skin.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimers to Kudos, who own stuff and to all the various wonderful lyricists I'm clearly honouring and not blagging from! And if anyone goes out and buys a single track then I am clearly doing all artists mentioned a good service!**

* * *

><p>The pod doors slid open. All was as it should be…well almost. Her desk was empty. He saw the coat and knew she was close. Just not close enough.<p>

Never close enough.

Lucas glanced up but knew it wasn't him that Harry was searching for.

Enclosed behind his glass wall, sitting at his desk, he flicked the computer on and once more looked for Ruth.

He wondered if she had found his gift. If she had listened to it. What she thought. How she felt.

In fact, it was all he had considered throughout his meeting with the Home Secretary, something the HS had not failed to notice as he had more than once heard Harry humming absentmindedly.

Still no Ruth.

He wondered if the last line had been too much, if he had chosen unwisely. If he should have tried to say more, if he shouldn't have kept it light.

With a sigh he turned to his screen. As the cursor passed across the desktop his attention was caught by a file. A file that had not been there the day before.

An audio file. Sitting at the top of the list.

Not his.

Unnamed.

Clicking on it he turned up the speaker.

And then he knew.

And then he smiled.

_A fine romance, with no kisses_

_A fine romance, my friend this is_

_We should be like a couple of hot tomatoes_

_But you're as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes_

Ella Fitzgerald. Ruth had style.

He searched the grid for her, but still nothing.

_A fine romance, you won't nestle_

_A fine romance, you won't wrestle_

_I might as well play bridge_

_With my old maid aunt_

_I haven't got a chance_

_This is a fine romance._

"Is there something in the air today?" asked Ros, perplexed.

Lucas' puzzled expression caused her to nod to Harry's office, where their section head was leant back in his chair smiling broadly, eyes closed.

"People are happy. It happens Ros."

"Hmmm," she grunted.

"People are happy. Just not you Ros."

The glare was enough to prevent Lucas from risking anymore.

"Lucas!" shouted Harry, suddenly at his door.

"Harry?"

"Where's Ruth?"

"Meeting an asset."

Harry glanced to the coat on her chair.

"She borrowed a dry one. She'll be back soon."

Harry grunted and disappeared.

"Happy didn't last long," muttered Ros.

"Oh, I don't know…" Lucas was watching Harry's figure cross the office. He stopped and suddenly a large smile spread across his face.

Time for a change in tone.


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth had listened to her new prized Shuffle single selection more times than she would like to admit, in fact it was on constant, unstoppable, glorious repeat all the way home.

It was the best part of her day.

Her hope.

And the intensity of her reaction to it was still a surprise.

A wonderful surprise.

The worst part of her day was not seeing Harry, who had been conspicuously absent after her return. And yet she was relieved, what would she have said to him. What would he have said to her.

She did wonder what he had thought to her musical answer.

Had he understood. Had she been too flippant.

She sighed before getting lost once more somewhere deep under Harry's skin.

* * *

><p>Home finally, this time on a considerably less packed tube, she headed for the kitchen and a glass of wine. But tonight the drinking of it felt like a celebration. Progress. A celebration of progress.<p>

Yet who was she kidding. For them progress consisted of two songs, neither of which really said anything, both which could be considered tongue in cheek. Both slightly ambiguous perhaps.

Still, it was something and that something had made her feel young again, fresh again, lifted up by life again.

And she wasn't going to knock that.

Glass in hand she tried not to stumble over Fidget whilst reaching out to switch on the small lamp in the living room.

A warm glow illuminated her but there was something else … a low hum that had begun with the click of the switch. Nervously she turned around.

In the corner of the room the music system was illuminated and the CD display was flashing.

It was then that the music began.

Her breath caught in her chest.

Harry had been here.

_I'm running out of ways to make you see,_

_I want you to stay here beside me,_

_I won't be ok and I won't pretend I am _

_So just tell me today and take my hand _

_Please take my hand _

_Please take my hand_

She crossed to the system and picked up the box which was laid across the top. _Snow Patrol,' Just say yes'._

Her eyebrows raised, Harry never failed to surprise.

Her attention was drawn back to the music, to the lyrics, to what he was trying to tell her.

_Just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back _

_It's not a test, nor a trick of the mind _

_Only love _

_Just say yes, cos I'm aching and I know you are too _

_For the touch of your warm skin, as I breathe you in _

_I can feel your heart beat through my shirt _

_This was all I wanted, all I want _

_It's all I want _

_It's all I want _

_It's all I want _

_It's all I want_

Ambiguity was gone.

My god she needed to get this track onto her Shuffle.

For two hours she sat in front of the speakers, every four minutes and forty one seconds she pressed play.

And every time she heard something new and every time she imagined something new.

And without doubt, she knew what he wanted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Struggled with this one a bit. Hope it's okay. Disclaimers again.**

* * *

><p>He held on and held on and held on. Pacing around his office, prowling the Grid but there was no sign of her.<p>

It was killing him.

The anticipation, the trepidation, the frustration of not knowing how his latest message had been received. This was worse than waiting for the ticking clock to descend towards zero.

He had cut to the chase.

He had changed the tone.

He had upped the stakes.

And now she was not here. No sign of her. No word.

"Aren't you meant to be meeting with the JIC?" asked Ros

Harry merely grunted.

He didn't need to glance at his watch to know that he was cutting it fine.

With a sigh he turned on his heel and marched into his office almost running full length into Tariq,

"Oh, sorry, Harry. I've left that obs report on your desk."

Harry grunted, picked up his coat and his phone and left with one last look towards her empty desk.

He'd pushed it too far. Must have. Shit.

* * *

><p>"Harry have you been listening?" asked the HS.<p>

"Of course, sir."

He hadn't. He had been thinking about Ruth and wondering how many songs had ever been written entitled - 'no, bugger off'.

"We need to reassess the threat and become more proactive with surveillance techniques." Fortunately Harry had developed the handy knack of not listening but still knowing what had been said. "Though how surveillance can be proactive I'll never know," he added under his breath as the opening of the doors and various beeping of mobiles signaled the end of the meeting.

As they got up from their seats the HS nodded at Harry and smiled.

"You're full of surprises, Harry."

Harry looked at him somewhat confused.

They were all looking at him now, smiles written across their faces.

He had no idea what was amusing them and why didn't someone answer their bloody mobile.

_I will be, all that you want_

_And gather myself together_

_Cause you keep me from falling apart._

The group had paused, no longer so eager to leave the building.

Bloody ringtones, he thought. For god sake's answer it and put us all out of our misery.

He stopped suddenly.

It was his phone.

But that wasn't his ringtone.

"Leona Lewis?" The Head of Six smirked.

"The softer side of Five," Special Branch laughed.

Harry scowled at the assembled group and answered the call as they scattered.

"Pearce."

"Harry, the Russian delegation are arriving early," Lucas announced.

"How early?"

"Tomorrow."

Harry sighed. "Is everything in place?"

"Not yet but it will be."

"Good. I'm on my way."

He ended the call but stood alone in the room looking at the phone.

Not his ringtone.

How the hell had she managed that?

He strode out in search of Jeffrey, the car and the complete song that was buried in his phone calling out for his undivided attention.

"Have you any earphones, Jeffrey?"

A hand reached back over the seat after a small amount of rummaging.

"They're not brilliant, I'm afraid."

"Thank you, they'll be just fine."

Harry plugged in.

He closed his eyes to block out the distractions of the city around him. And he hoped...

_There's nothing I could say to you_

_Nothing I could ever do_

_to make you see_

_What you mean to me_

It was a promising start. But a no could still follow….

_All the pain, the tears I cried_

_Still you never said goodbye and now I know_

_How far you'd go_

Was she building up to something bad?

_I know I let you down_

_But it's not like that now_

_This time I'll never let you go._

Or better?...

_I will be, all that you want_

_And gather myself together_

_Cause you keep me from falling apart._

_All my life, I'll be with you forever_

_To get you through the day_

_And make everything OK._

_I thought that I had everything_

_I didn't know what life could bring_

_But now I see, honestly._

_You're the one thing I got right_

_The only one I let inside_

_Now I can breathe, cause you're here with me_

He smiled.

"Oh Ruth."

"Sorry sir?"

"Nothing, Jeffrey."

* * *

><p><strong>I promise the next chapter will be better.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

He was on his way.

And here she was.

Any minute the pod doors would…..

The pod doors swished open.

And there _he_ was.

They stood looking at each other from across the grid.

Still.

Unknowing what to do next.

Finally he took the first step across the floor.

"Harry," Ros appeared from his office, "the Foreign Secretary is in there waiting for you. Problem with the Russians."

Harry nodded but his eyes stayed with Ruth, his body unwilling to turn away.

"Harry!"

"I'm coming."

He turned away.

The music was still playing in his head.

_You're the one thing I got right_

_The only one I let inside_

_Now I can breathe, cause you're here with me_

"Harry are you listening?"

"Yes, Foreign Secretary."

He was gazing through the glass wall at Ruth.

She knew he was watching her. For once he didn't try to hide it and she didn't try to pretend she was unaware of it.

He could see the small smile at the corner of her lips. He called her, in his head, called her to look up at him. She didn't. He willed it with all his might, knowing that it wouldn't make any difference.

She looked up.

He smiled, broadly, warmly, lovingly.

"Harry, this is no smiling matter."

"Yes sir, it's not. And I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Our full attention is focused upon the problem."

"I'm not entirely convinced of that."

The FS got up and strode from the office, pausing at the door.

"If this is beyond your interest Harry I'll give it to Six and Special Branch."

"Nothing is beyond us, sir" Harry assured him, meeting his eyes for seemingly the first time through the entire meeting, "All is in hand."

The FS felt something was in hand, but it was not the protection of the Russians.

Ruth was finding it hard not to smile. There was something about the way that Harry was openly looking at her.

Her computer beeped. Mail.

FROM: Harry Pearce

TO: Ruth Evershed

Sorry no chance to talk… Tomorrow.

(File attached)

She avoided his office and concentrated on the screen in front of her. He watched her plug her headphones into the side of the computer. More than once the team had commented on the weight of transcriptions she had been recently burdened with, the headphones had barely left her ears.

The horn section began and she felt the familiarity of the tune but was waiting for the words to remind her of the song.

And there it was with the first couple of words she knew it.

Wilson Pickett it was.

_I'm gonna wait till the midnight hour_

_That's when my love comes tumbling down_

_I'm gonna wait till the midnight hour_

_When there's no one else around_

_I'm gonna take you, girl and hold you_

_And do all the things I told you_

_In the midnight hour_

_Yes I am_

_Oh yes I am….._

She didn't need to glance up to know he was watching.

He gazed at her, the breath in his chest heavy as he saw the blush rise and spread across her face. Saw her fingers winding the cable. Saw her tongue flick across her lips.

He watched as Ros said something to her that she failed to hear.

And he watched as she finally, finally met his eyes.

And he thanked god for other people's words.


	9. Chapter 9

Now armed with three tracks on her shuffle, life felt very different for Ruth.

On the bus journey home her book remained untouched.

Her face was turned to the window.

But the world passed by unnoticed.

Her eyes gazed out.

Her hopes saw only possibilities.

* * *

><p>Tomorrow he had said….tomorrow night.<p>

And then they would talk.

If only they didn't have to. It was so much easier not talking. So much easier with other people's words.

With their own all could go wrong.

Awkwardness and misunderstandings, synonymous with them….them…. Ruth and Harry.

"Harry and Ruth"

Fidget looked up.

"Just wondered how it sounded," explained Ruth.

* * *

><p>She lay in bed and tried to turn off her brain. But it wasn't having it.<p>

Images of him. Thoughts of him. Questions about him. Doubts about him.

Stop.

Sleep.

Tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Something.<p>

Elsewhere.

Noise.

Her head lifted from the pillow.

She must have left the television on.

She got out of bed and felt her way to the hall, turning the light on and blasting her retinas. Padding down the steps, hand protecting what was left of her vision, she realized how loud was the sound.

Eyes welcoming the lack of light downstairs she peered towards the dark hole where the tv lived.

Nothing.

The street light bled through the open curtains, all the rest was darkness apart from a dim glow that radiated from the stereo. A dim light and a loud noise. A guitar playing, slow and gentle.

Her tired brain finally began to focus, to process the sounds, the words…

_Whenever I'm alone with you _

_You make me feel like I am home again_

She knew this, she owned this…._Adele_.

_Whenever I'm alone with you _

_You make me feel like I am whole again._

She stepped down from the stairs, eyes finally seeing.

First the clock that told her it was 12.05.

Second the shape in the shadows.

Left shoulder casually propped against the kitchen wall, feet crossed, hands in pockets.

Him.

Eyes on her. Filled with desire, with want, with need. Here, in the midnight hour.

_Whenever I'm alone with you _

_You make me feel like I am young again. _

He watched her, the intensity of his gaze reminding her of Havensworth.

_Whenever I'm alone with you _

_You make me feel like I am fun again _

And he began to move towards her in the darkness.

_However far away, I will always love you _

_However long I stay, I will always love you _

_Whatever words I say, I will always love you _

_I will always love you._

His eyes never left her. As his body moved closer and closer. Slowly, gently, powerfully. Until she could feel the heat of him, standing before her.

He was so close as his eyes searched her face, searched to tell her how much he meant these words that were not his…but could have been.

_Whenever I'm alone with you _

_You make me feel like I am free again _

_Whenever I'm alone with you _

_You make me feel like I am clean again _

_However far away, I will always love you _

_However long I stay, I will always love you _

_Whatever words I say, I will always love you _

_I will always love you._

Only inches apart, their breath matched, their heat shared, their eyes locked.

And the world stood still.

A hand slipped gently to her hip and guided her through the remaining emptiness to him.

His heart beating through his shirt.

Her lips moist, soft, waiting…wanting.

His eyes asked the question and the tilt of her mouth silently answered as her body willed him to join her.

But he needed her to know how much, how very much he loved her.

And so they stood, still and silent.

_However far away, I will always love you _

_However long I stay, I will always love you _

_Whatever words I say, I will always love you _

_I'll always love you._

_I'll always love you._

_Cos I love you._

She knew.

And so did he.

And so he smiled as he kissed her.

And vowed not to stop, even when the music ended.


	10. Chapter 10

And so it was that as the rain hammered at the window and the two bodies began to wake from contented dreams, that there had still been no opportunity for the use for words.

"Morning," the voice was huskier than she had ever heard him.

"Hi" she whispered.

They looked at each other lost in the wonder of the situation.

His hand somewhere under the covers moved across her hips. And both of them were made painfully, beautifully aware of their combined nakedness.

"Ruth…." he breathed.

"Harry…I….." she was searching for the words but as she did so, as her eyes ran across the disheveled, wonderful sight of him, her gaze alighted upon the clock besides the bed.

"Shit!"

"What?"

"The Russians! Harry we're late!"

And with that romance was abandoned for a rapid, desperate need to get dressed and to get out and back to the grid.

As they drove along through the city, both their minds were reflecting back on all that had happened, on the romance of the night, the unspoken passion of the night and the fact that neither now seemed capable of mentioning it.

As Ruth got out of the car, leaving Harry to park up and delay his own entrance, they didn't speak. She looked at him briefly before closing the door.

Why, he thought, when he should be beside himself with all things good did he still feel like they were buried in propriety, neck deep in ambiguity. All he wanted to do was celebrate the fact that he had held her, kissed her, touched her, heard her gasp his name with pleasure. He wanted to move on and instead they were mired in the same old reticence.

Not for the first time did he vow that things were going to change.

Bit this time he meant it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thought I maybe should have finished this after Chapter 9 but actually glad I took it to here. This, however, is the end.**

* * *

><p>"Good to see you've dressed for the occasion," announced Ros as Harry passed her on his way to the crisp white shirt and tie that lay within his office drawer. As for the black jeans there was little chance of changing them.<p>

Ruth watched from her desk, watched as Harry pulled the polo shirt over his head, watched as he shrugged on the clean shirt and began to fasten its buttons, watched and wished they could have stayed in bed and finally talked.

She wanted things to change, for things to be as they were whenever there was music.

She stood up suddenly and walked to his office.

As she crossed through the door he began to unfasten his jeans.

"Harry!"

"What?" he began to tuck his shirt in.

Realising her mistake she looked away.

"You've seen it all before, Ruth," he smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"But not in the middle of your office," she said choosing to look back at him.

"Harry…I.."

He paused.

"You know how I feel?" she asked suddenly.

"I believe I do, yes Ruth."

"It's just that I need to do this away from work, from here."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?"

"It's private."

"It's never been private, Ruth. Adam knew, Malcolm knew. Ros and Lucas both know. Even Tariq. So what is there to hide?"

"It's just not easy."

"Was it easy last night?"

Her eyes locked with his. She nodded.

"Then why are we making it so difficult today?"

"Because the music stopped," she smiled not knowing what more to say.

"The music will never stop..." he stepped towards her, slowly and deliberately as he had only a few hours before… "You just have to listen for it."

As he stood before her and reached out Lucas appeared at the door.

"The Russian have arrived."

Harry nodded, his eyes not leaving her as he leant close.

"Keep listening…."

And then he turned away.

For the rest of the day Ruth listened, listened to comms, listened on the grid, listened to her shuffle, listened to anything that appeared on her computer. Wondering always what she was listening for.

There was nothing.

When Harry, Ros and Lucas returned to the grid, Russians safely packed off on to their diplomatic jet, Ruth was still at her desk...listening.

"Drink," stated Ros, it wasn't a question. Lucas nodded and looked at Harry.

"No, I've got plans," said Harry.

"A date with a glass of scotch?" asked Ros.

"No….just a date."

Ros opened her mouth to speak but decided better of it. Harry meanwhile was walking away, across the grid, focused on Ruth.

"Are you listening?" he asked quietly as he reached her.

She nodded.

Harry oblivious to anything but her, held out a hand. Ruth glanced back at Lucas and Ros who were annoyingly taking their time to leave. His hand stayed raised as he waited patiently.

Concentrating her mind away from all distractions she looked up at him and took his hand, rising to her feet, but he didn't step back or move away, instead he stood close as his right hand found her waist, his left keeping a tight grip on her hand.

"Harry?" she whispered nervously.

"Shhh," he breathed, "Listen."

And gently and very slowly he lifted her hand to his chest and began almost imperceptibly to sway.

Her eyes darted to him, suddenly realising what he was saying, what she should be hearing.

"Could we continue this at home?" she asked, the smile threatening to overcome her face.

"Mmm…" his eyes closed, "after this dance."

From the corner of her eye Ruth was aware of Lucas and Ros standing staring.

Somehow she no longer cared.

She too closed her eyes.

Lucas nudged Ros and pushed her away silently towards the pods.

"I can hear the music, Harry," Ruth whispered, "but not the words."

He leant close, his mouth brushing against her cheek, grazing its way to her ear.

As the pod doors slid closed they could only guess at what Harry was whispering in Ruth's ear, whatever it was her eyes were closed and her face radiant.

They were both dancing to the same beat.


End file.
